


Ode To Fear

by LadyLuminousFox



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-01-03 23:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12157284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLuminousFox/pseuds/LadyLuminousFox
Summary: a short or long fic(will write more if popular) centralizing around the life of pitch black, aka the boogeyman, and what he does in his free time when not battling it out with the guardians.(rated teen and up just in case*)





	1. fear no colors

Lord Kozmotis Pitchiner, high general of the Golden age army and protector of the Tzar and Tzarina Lunanoff and all the constellations, stood with a death-like stillness. 

Kozmotis couldn’t remember when it started, but he knew that it must have at some point. It was becoming increasingly difficult for the general to remember and keep track of things like his well-being. The hours seemed to crawl past him like gutted soldiers, and what felt like a month or a year would be in reality minutes. But Kozmotis knew reality, or at least he thought he knew, long ago, and this was not it. This place in which he dwelled was like a surreal, distorted dream. An endless and unchanging dream whose minutes and hours and days would all bleed into the next.

An eternal hell! He thought dryly to himself.

Long was he past the outrage, and anger, and even sadness. He felt as if time itself was wearing away at his emotions. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing...to feel...empty? unfeeling?

The general sighed heavily. His eyes drifted up to greet the night, where the sun was a distant star and the sky was black and hollow. It was endless, unchanging, unhindered

Darkness.

But he was still free wasnt he? He laughed aloud at the thought. He could leave whenever he wanted to!

And it was a very tempting thought.

Though he knew deep down he would never abandon his post, his responsibility, his purpose. Because of this he was just as trapped as the demon shadows he guarded. The irony did not escape him. He laughed harder, at the world, at the sky, at the shadows.

The shadows had been silent for many many many heartbeats. He often forgot that they were there at all, they had been so quiet, unmoving except for his own stark shadow. Often these stretches of silence and stillness were too much for even him and so he would take solace in the locket, or he would listen to . . .

Kozmotis gave another shaky sigh, as he once again slipped in and out of his muddied thoughts. A hand raked through his auburn hair.

The voices, he thought dully, that’s when it started, a month ago perhaps . . . no that wasn’t right . . . a year then . . . and they would come out at night, back when he would talk aloud to himself, to the locket, to the far away sun. To keep him company and help him stay focused.

He remembered that during the first few weeks of isolation he would list off all the reasons why, one at a time.

Why was he here? Because he has to be

Why was he alone? He is never alone

Why he had volunteered to guard the most dangerous prison in all the constellations?

Only he could be that conceited . . .

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. 

The shadows were always quiet, but they were shadows! Shadows don’t speak! Fearlings, not shadows. Shadows don’t move on their own and feed on your greatest fears. Shadows weren’t hideous creatures - 

“With pitted eyes, dagger teeth, and dangerous claws!”A young voice giggled.

Kozmotis paused in his thoughts, taking a moment to process who had said those words all those years ago. Then he remembered. That voice, how could he have forgotten! Gods be damned if he ever forgot again. It was her voice. Her voice, her eyes, her hair, her smile, her laugh . . .

“And fearlings love to play with emotions” another voice, deeper than the first. 

Kozmotis jerks awake from the lull of his thoughts. He was almost positive he had thought that . . . or could he have possibly heard it? He was tired, yes that was it . . . very, very, very, tired. His obvious lack of sleep was making him hear things. 

He shook his head again, amused for no particular reason other than to not give in to the small lingering traces of fear that now seemed to claw at his resolve.  
No he couldn't give in, he would just get nightmares again . . . he didn’t think he could deal with that. He was so tired, so drained, emotionally and physically. It couldn't hurt to close his eyes, he wouldn’t fall asleep, but rest just for a minute…

It was then that the fearlings decided to attack the entrance of the dungeon. 

Like a united entity, they pounded and scratched at the door. It was so abrupt, so loud, there were so many screaming voices. It nearly gave the poor general a heart attack as his eyes burst open in the darkness.

\--------------------------

Pitch Black awoke with an audible gasp, his chest heaving uncontrollably. There was a visible sheen of sweat on his skin and he was hyperventilating. He was hot. Waaaay too hot! It felt as if his insides were being cooked while simultaneously freezing cold. 

He growled in pain, his teeth bared. It didn’t take him long to realise it was another gods forsaken nightmare. His hands didn’t seem to get the message though, as they continued to shake uncontrollably. Still sweating profusely, he kicked off the covers (like the temperamental teenager he was) as if they had outwardly insulted his attire. Only after the fact did Pitch regret his decision, immediately shivering from cold sweats.

Augh! Why did his body have to act so strange when he got nightmares! You would think he would have been used to all the horror and gore his mind had manifested over the centuries. And yet, to this day he would wake up with panic attacks and cold sweats like some menopausal middle aged woman!

With a prominent groan, Pitch flopped back down on top of his bed, mind still racing and frantically analysing the details of the recurring dream.

Pitch black knew all about nightmares, he was The King of Nightmares for darkness’s sake. He actually quite enjoyed giving horror-inducing dreams to children. He reveled in hearing their shrill screams echo through the darkness, watching them hide helplessly under their blankets, believing that it would protect them from him. And their fears!  
Sprawled across his bed, Pitch’s stomach began to growl at the thought of food, the smell, the taste. His fangs ground together without thought and his mouth salivated.

So many wonderfully fearful little children, with their vivid imaginations and excessive anxieties. Now he was in no way in fact a pedophile, per say , he quite despised them actually, but a children’s fears were always the most delicious!

Pitch grew sidetracked, and began to list off all of his favorite fears to feast on, seemingly forgetting all about the strange nightmare. 

Arachnophobia, Ophidiophobia, Acrophobia, Thanatophobia . . . Pitch sighed then growled lowly, remembering suddenly just who had starved him in the first place . . .

Gods, he would do anything to scare again! And he would be to if it wasn't for those self righteous, stuck up, cockroaches, that called themselves Guardians. Now there! They were proper scum of the earth! If anyone should be called pedophiles it’s them, bribing children with presents and candy . . . it was sickening!

Pitch was halted from his ravings however when a fearling came crashing into his bedroom, panic and fear shedding off the little gremlin in waves. By the expression on its face it appeared to be . . . scared? Of what? The little shade then folded his hands absently, and spoke quickly, as if doing so would make it less painful.

“Forgive me, my lord, but a small child has fallen into the lair” 

 

And his day was going so well . . .


	2. at wit's end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow...I honestly didn't think this would be that popular(as in people actually read this) so...as of recent events, and to celebrate the 5th anniversary of Rise Of The Guardians I have decided to post another chapter in which Pitch meets the surprise visitor from the end of chapter one (i'm not sorry I wrote this xD) happy five year anniversary everyone!

Pitch Black, the king of nightmares, blinked owlishly at the little fearling that cowered before him. In that moment Pitch seemed to perfectly mimic that of a predator watching its prey. Like how a cat stares curiously at its victim before it pounces, the nightmare king watched the shadow with starburst eyes, the cogs in his head reeling and voices whispering and screaming all at once.   
The fearling is hesitant, uncertain as to why his lord wasn’t responding, or threatening it within an inch of its life. It seemed with every passing second the silence becomes more and more suffocating. Golden eyes bore down into white ones, analysing it with hunger and curiosity. The fearling then wondered with sudden terror if he was to be eaten! The fearling shuddered at the thought. His father seemed to react to this, tilting his head like a bird does, mechanical in his movement. It made him look all the more like a puppet.The shadow creature stills for a moment. He had not been here very long but he knew of the stories. His older brothers and sisters that all looked exactly like him. They had told him as they had been around the longest. The fearling jumps suddenly as the nightmare king shakes his head, and refocuses on him with stern cold eyes. 

“Sorry, I don’t think I quite heard you correctly, could you repeat yourself?” he says with all the calmness of a volcano before it erupts. 

Before the fearling, immobilized with complete terror, even has a chance to blink, a banshee like scream fills the corridors and chambers. The echo produced from the cave only amplifying the horrid noise that appeared to come from everywhere. 

Pitch sneered in aggravation, cursing at the fearling and whatever nightmarish creature was making that cursed noise. He then swiftly leaves the room and enters a shadow, the fearling following carefully like a dog that knows it’s in trouble.   
Pitch never seemed to be able to catch a break, and he figured it had something to do with the guardians, or maybe it was just the universe’s way of expressing how much it hated him. That was ok though as It was a mutual hate; especially in times like these. It seemed to enjoy playing with his patience to the point where it made him really consider life, and how much he detested it right now.  
The screaming seemed to grow louder and louder with every twist and turn of the long hallway. Further still he went, until he found himself stepping into the main hall of his lair. It was here the noise, in between sudden bursts of laughter, was at its loudest. Pitch looks around frantically, seeing the metal globe, twinkling like jewels with the lights ( regrettably none were for him) of the guardians believers. As he left the shadows, the screaming seemed to die down a bit( either that or he was going deaf) as he stepped further into the grey light of the cave. Whatever it was, it seemed to find the situation amusing now, laughing absurdly like one does after drinking too much. Crouching like frightened animals, nightmares and fearlings alike circled and hissed, their shadows lacing the walls of the chamber.

Only when the screaming stopped did their thoughts and complaints reach him with yet another deafening noise. Only this time it was an amalgam of multiple creatures, all whispering, shouting and crying over each other, growing louder as they tried to talk over one another. He tried to sift through the creatures voices, only able to catch one or two phrases.

 

Make it st0p!

…..what is that thing?!

H0w did it get in!?

….is it br0ken?!

Is it fo0d?

….it came fr0m the 0utside!

 

It was complete hysteria and despite his job occupation, right now, the king of fear was having none of this.

“Everyone do shut up or so help me I will personally lock up each and everyone of you sandbags back into the hell from which you came!!” Pitch shouted dangerously at the shadows. 

At these words time seemed to come to a stand still. The shadows became so still and quiet so suddenly it was as if the dark creatures were but shadows all along. Even the noise maker is quiet. Minutes pass and Pitch sighs heavily, exhausted( it wasn’t even noon yet) and filling the empty, unnatural silence with his own thoughts. Eventually the shadows began to stir once again, only a few brave ones murmuring under their breath about how the general could remember and other, more colorful comments that were barely above a whisper.   
Two or three nightmares still lingered however, bowing their heads with ears pressed flat. They were sniffing at something, the noise maker no less, that now seemed to coo over the attention from the dark horses.The king of nightmares gradually makes his way around the globe, his frustration in this thing causing his shadows to writhe and squirm. Pushing aside the nightmares Pitch freezes, yellow eyes widening in horror as they meet emerald green ones. A moment passes between the two when suddenly he is attacked with sticky fingers and a mess of blonde hair. 

‘No...this couldn’t be happening….just another nightmare….this definitely was not happening   
right now…..of all the children that could have wandered into his lair….’

“Boogerman!!” Sophie Bennett screeched with excitement as she clutched onto the petrified shade.

……..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to leave a comment*


	3. little golden butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the continuation of Ode To Fear, where we left off, Sophie has just fallen into the nightmare king's lair! 
> 
> enjoy~

 

 

Pitch Black looked at the sleeping child curled in his lap. Said child, also known as Sophie Bennett, also known as what the nightmare king dubbed the ‘terrible terror’, had finally settled down to sleep on his lap of all places.  
Pitch sighed, running a shaking hand through his raven hair. The cretin...was still asleep... in his lap. It was sleeping in his lap, did the rugrat even know who he was?! Pitch stiffened suddenly when the child grabbed onto the edge of his robe and cooed in blissful sleep. Pitch swallowed and shut his eyes. Another sigh passes his lips as the child settled, and an emotion he couldn’t quite place started to burn in his chest.  
….Damn brat, Damn, innocent little brat!

It had been well over an hour since him and his nightmares had found the pest in his lair. He still wasn’t exactly quite sure how she not only miraculously survived the 20-foot plunge into the cavern he sadly called a home but also what she was doing so far from home all by herself.  
Pitch growled lowly at the thought of how irresponsible her parents were. What sane parent misplaces a toddler? Did they even realize their child was missing?! Did she somehow manage to sneak out of the house when they weren’t paying attention?!  
His panicked thoughts were suddenly and unceremoniously reeled back as a small hand reached for his hair.  
Pitch sighed, tiredness finally catching up to him.

“Sophie…” he chided softly, garnering more of a response than he had expected. Sophie gently released a fistful of hair and plopped herself back down, green eyes curious, but also anxious as if she was caught in the act.

“Booge-” She began to pronounce out the detestable word when Pitch quickly interrupted her.

“Sophie, dear child, allow me to make myself very clear,” Sophie again became quiet with a huff, patience was not one of her strong suits.  
“It’s Boogieman, BOW-GEE,” he pronounced, stretching the vowel sounds to make sure Sophie understood.  
The toddler appeared deep in thought, or about as thoughtful as a toddler could get. She seemed to comprehend what he had said however and nodded in understanding.

“BOW-GEE MAN!” She squealed as if it was the greatest discovery of all time. She giggled and all but seemed to forget the important thing, the reason why she was there.

The child's happiness must have been contagious as even the great nightmare king gave a small smile, but he would never admit to it.

Pitch nodded, satisfied enough that he managed to correct her, even if he did despise the name, and carefully removed the clinging monkey from his person.

“Now that we have that settled, miss Sophie, would you mind telling me what it is you are doing here? Where is your brother, your parents?”

Pitch wasn’t sure what it was if it was something he said, but like a lightswitch, Sophie’s once joyful demeanor turned off. Sophie looked down at her bare feet as if they would hold all the answers. Minutes pass when her eyes eventually meet his in a way a child looked to a scolding parent, and If Pitch didn’t know any better, he could have sworn she was-

“Scared” Sophie stated like he was supposed to understand what she meant. Maybe she did believe that after all he was the spirit of fear.

Pitch chuckled darkly. “You aren’t scared of me, are you?” To his disappointment and slight concern, the child vigorously shook her head no.

Pitch scoffed, throwing up his hands. Right, he forgot he was talking to a four-year-old who now was also somehow immune to his ability to read people's fears. He blanched a little, suddenly hoping that wasn’t permanent.

“Then pray tell, what could you possibly be scared of, If not fear itself?”

Sophie Bennett bit her lip, growing nervous. She was suddenly unsure if she made the right decision. So she gathered up all the courage she could muster and explained in the way only a four year old could about her problem and why she needed his help. Pitch’s facial expressions where interesting to say the least. First, he looked a bit confused, then annoyed, which then changed to concern? to shock, then back to confusion. Sophie tried her best to keep a straight face as she elaborated.

“So let me get this straight,” The grey man spoke slowly as if he still wasn't quite sure of the words himself.

“A monster, that lives in your house, that isn’t me or a nightmare, or a Fearling-”

“Or Dweam Piwate” Sophie butted in, a proud smile on her face. She then remembered she was supposed to be upset. Besides, this wasn’t the time for bedtime stories.

Pitch blinked a few times, briefly wondering just how much she knew about the spirit realm. He then shook his head. Right, the guardians probably told her and her brother everything. He inwardly cringed a bit.  
“Or Dream Pirate,” He corrected, getting back on topic.

“Has been scaring not only you but your mother and brother as well,”

To this she nodded her approval, then did an impression of a monster with claws and giving her best rawr. A Fearling that had curled its way around his shoulders during the story gave a small shriek, then quickly slithered back into Pitch’s shadow. Bloody coward.  
It was a bit strange however, he thought. If there was, in fact, another fear spirit living nearby, surely he would have sensed their presence by now? A voice in the back of his mind yelled at him that he was talking to a toddler. That for all he knew it could have been her brother pulling pranks on her. But if it was another fear spirit that would explain why his powers were behaving so strangely the past couple of days.  
It was then he decided, he might as well pay the Bennett house a visit.

Pitch bent down to Sophie’s eye level, smirking mischievously.  
“So you believed I could help you get rid of your monster predicament, one monster against another? I must say, you are quite clever for your species,” Pitch then became curious, wondering why the thought had not come to him sooner.  
“ why come to me, why not ask the Guardians for assistance?”  
To this, Sophie bit her lip again(a terrible habit) and if it wasn’t for his highly sensitive hearing he would have missed what she said next altogether.

“Gardans busy, won’t help...”She murmured softly, her toes, once again, taking her interest.

Upon hearing this, however, Pitch almost lost control, almost. Of course, those all mighty guardians, those hypocrites of the spirit world would neglect to help one of the few children they actually knew personally, no doubt believing he was the monster and telling her not to worry, not to be afraid! Yes, he was very close to going over to the pole right now and slaughtering the lot of them..

“Pitch?” The boogieman was once again ripped away from his thoughts of vengeance, golden eyes meeting curious green ones. There was a hint of concern in her voice, and if he wasn’t so adamant about investigating the supposed monster, he would have dropped her off in the forest then and there. How dare a four-year-old rugrat to feel sorry for him no less…however, he would have to put his pride aside, at least for now. As it was he still couldn’t register her fears.

“Fine,” He groused, summoning the shadows around them(to his dismay Sophie cooed in awe),  
“I’ll get rid of your monster, but you must promise to not say a word to anyone, especially the guardians, that I’m ‘helping you,” the words he never thought he would ever say left a bitter taste in his mouth, by the stars he was going soft...

“Pwomise!” Sophie cried, beaming with happiness. Small arms then wrapped like a python around his middle.  
Pitch reflexively tensed, holding his breath, waiting for the all too familiar feeling of being passed through. It occurred to him only now however that Sophie believed in him. Sophie Bennett, after everything he had done, even though she wasn't afraid of him, she believed in him.  
It was eerily silent as Pitch transported them through the shadows, once again lost in thought as she continued to cling to him like she was just another Fearling. It was only until he brought them to the Bennetts front doorstep did Sophie let go, standing on her tiptoes to ring the front doorbell. It only then did Pitch come back to reality, his thoughts racing to process what he had just done, what Sophie had done. Sophie!

The chimes of the doorbell blared throughout the house and down the quiet street, the girl paying no mind to the fact that it was one o'clock in the morning, and that most humans were(or should be) still asleep. Pitch immediately grabbed her hand before she could ring a second time, scolding her, and himself as to why he didn't just teleport them inside the house, to begin with, he was a bit distracted, when the porch light came to life and the door swung open before them.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~comments are always appreciated~


End file.
